


The Boy In The Attic

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Assault, Dead!Kurt, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder, Nice Blaine's Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something strange about the attic of Blaine Anderson's new house. Odd noises and a strange sighting of a boy in white on the first day there plague him and his curiosity is piqued. Luckily is new friends in the Glee Club at his new school seem to have some valuable information about the history of his house. But could that really be what's causing the strange sounds? Maybe he should go up and check.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Someone stop me from making new stories! But the title for this one has been stuck in my head like crazy and I had to do it. This is entirely an AU. And yes, Kurt is dead in this fic. Consider it a treat because I don't like killing off our boys. At least not without the reprieve and them being happily both alive again. Not sure if this one will be like that. I can't easily work in a way for Kurt to return to life like I was able to when I wrote A Beary Happy Birthday Blaine. That is a completed story on my ff account. KurtandBlaineGleek if you want to look it up. I did start a sequel but that stuff is all on hold I'm afraid.
> 
> Anyway, so this is a Dead!Kurt fic and Kurt is from another time period. He was born in 1926 and murdered on his 17th birthday. So he died in 1943 but that's covered in this lovely prologue. The majority of this story takes place in time with season 3 so when Blaine is a junior.
> 
> As always, comments make me smile! Enjoy!

"He was a boogie woogie bugle boy of company b," sang those charming ladies up on the stage with the band stand. It was a high class swinging party at the age of big band. The 1940s were anything but boring and these parties were nothing if not swinging.

 

Seventeen year old Kurt Hummel stood to the side of the dance floor in the grand ballroom of the Hummel Hotel. He was swirling a glass of whiskey with a slight frown on his face. His eyes were trained on the gorgeous blonde man currently swinging his equally gorgeous blonde female partner across the dance floor.

 

He would never have that.

 

The year was 1943 and The Andrews Sisters' hit of two years prior was still all the rage. Of course the band stand would play it.

 

But that was the least of Kurt's worries. He swirled the whiskey again. His eyes were still trained on the blonde man. Oh how he would just enjoy being able to run his fingers through that man's hair. He could care less about the pretty girl that he was dancing with. He only had eyes for the man. But God forbid his father ever find out. Not that Kurt believed in a God.

 

He was miserable. He wanted to love. He wanted to be loved. But the kind of love he wanted was severely frowned upon and distasteful. It was unsanitary and disgusting and would certainly get him disowned by his father. The idea of disappointing Burt Hummel was creeping up Kurt's spine at every turn.

 

So no, his father could never know this. He could never tell him that he was attracted to men. Not just because it was a shameful thing to be, but because it would do a number to Burt Hummel's reputation.

 

Burt had started out merely managing a small garage to service the automobile. Hummel Tires & Lube had grown into an empire and he had built the grand Hummel Hotel as a wedding gift for his late wife when the two of them had first married.

 

Elizabeth Hummel had been a charming woman, carefree and full of life. She was the most loving person in the entire world. And she was gone.

 

Kurt's mother had passed away when her son, who she had doted on, was only eight years of age.

 

Burt and Elizabeth had met in 1922. Two years later, they were married and Burt opened his hotel. It had always been Elizabeth's dream to run a grand hotel. Two years after that, on May 27, 1926, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was born. Eight years later, tragedy took Elizabeth from them.

 

Kurt knew he should be celebrating. This whole party was in honor of his seventeenth birthday. It was May. 27, 1943. But he felt nothing like celebrating.

 

It wasn't just the guilt and shame in his stomach as he watched the blonde dance away with his charming female partner. No, Kurt could not ignore the nagging feeling of dread that had slowly been washing over him since his hour of waking that morning. All was not right with the world.

 

And it seemed that very feeling of dread was about to come to a peak.

 

A shot rang out, shattering one of the bulbs in one of the many ballroom chandeliers and causing the women to scream in fright.

 

Kurt's head shot up and his fingers faltered with the whiskey glass in his hands. It fell to the floor, glass shattering and whiskey splashing around his feet. But the teenager hardly noticed as his eyes went wide with fear.

 

Three men stood tall and clear in the center of the dance floor. The Titan Gang. The leader, a man called David Karofsky, stood at the head of the three, hands wrapped firmly around the pistol he held. The weapon was still smoking from the recent shot, as was the cigarette hanging loosely at the corner of his mouth.

 

Kurt watched his father hesitantly step forward. Karofsky cocked the gun.

 

"What do you want?" Burt questioned, voice gruff. The reply was a round of crazy laughter.

 

"Your son," Karofsky said, cutting his laughter off abruptly. From his place by the bar, Kurt let out a small whimper.

 

"You can't have him," Burt snarled.

 

Karofsky, whose ears and eyes had followed the sound to the delicate pale boy in the form fitting white tux, flipped his gaze back to Burt.

 

"The hell I can't. Good night Hummel!" He fired the pistol and Kurt let out a wanton wail as the bullet pierced his dad in the chest, hitting its target directly in the heart. More screams as Burt Hummel collapsed to the floor. Karofsky nodded toward Kurt, pistol still pointed at the spot where Burt had been standing just seconds before. "Grab him," he said to his fellows.

 

Kurt barely had time to register what was happening before the remaining two Titans gripped a hold of him harshly by the arms and dragged him forward.

 

"Anyone else want to play the hero?" Karofsky snarled, pointing the pistol at the crowd. No one dared to make a sound or move an inch. "That's what I thought."

 

People stared as the Titans manhandled Kurt, heir to the Hummel Hotel and Hummel fortune, carting him out of the building and to an awaiting automobile.

 

Kurt's mind was on autopilot. He had no recollection of what happened between the moment his father got shot and the moment he found himself being shoved into the attic of a large two story house. It was only as he took in the musky stench of the place that he seemed to come back to himself.

 

"Leave," Karofsky spat to his two fellows. They both retreated without a word, leaving Kurt standing in the center of the unused attic with Karofsky eyeing him like he was a piece of meat.

 

The gangster slowly walked forward and ran his pistol seductively across Kurt's neck. The pale boy swallowed.

 

"My my my, how you've grown," Karofsky said in a sickening voice. Kurt tried all he could not to cringe. "You are going to look so beautiful under my body," he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of Kurt's neck. Kurt shuddered. Karofsky mistook it for pleasure. "Knew you'd like that lady boy," he spit.

 

Kurt stuck his nose in the air and scoffed. "Keep dreaming Karofsky," he said boldly. "I could never enjoy that kind of attention from you."

 

The reaction was instantaneous. Suddenly, Kurt found the pistol shoved into his chin and he could feel his body start to tremble.

 

"You listen to me homo! You will do everything I tell you or I will shoot you in the head! Do I make myself clear?" he asked, grunting out the words.

 

"Crystal," Kurt replied, his unnaturally high-pitched voice creaking higher and he swallowed hard.

 

"Good. Now, strip," Karofsky replied. Kurt let out a whimper and Karofsky shoved the pistol back into his chin. "I said strip!" he spit out.

 

Still whimpering and tears beginning to stream his face, the teenager slowly peeled away the pieces of his tux until he stood stark naked in front of the chubby man, whose hairline was already receding. Karofsky licked his lips hungrily.

 

"So beautiful. So mine. On the bed!" He shouted, shoving the pistol into his stomach. It was only then that Kurt took note of the bed that was in the attic. Still crying, the naked teenager crawled onto the bed, feeling the pistol pointed at him and Karofksy's eyes roaming his ass from behind. It took all his resolve to suppress the disgusted shudder.

 

The bed dipped as Karofsky followed him onto it. He forced Kurt to lie on his stomach face down. One hand held the gun to the back of Kurt's head while the other expertly fastened Kurt's wrists into a pair of handcuffs that were attached to the headboard.

 

"Good little princess. Such a good girl," Karofsky drawled, running the pistol down Kurt's back and the boy whimpered. "Going to fuck you so good little girl."

 

Kurt didn't know what to think anymore. He was being treated like a girl and his dad was dead, shot in cold blood and now, he was going to be raped by this awful man. He had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from sobbing. No way was he going to let Karofsky hear him crying. He knew that was what the gang leader wanted.

 

Instead, Kurt shut his eyes and tried to center himself in a place of happy, doing whatever he could to drown out what Karofsky was doing to him. But he still heard the zip of the other man's pants, still heard the rustling of fabric as the man's pants were pulled down, still felt the press of the mattress as he moved onto his knees, still felt the bruises beginning to form on his pale hips as Karofsky gripped him harshly. But the thing he felt the most, when Karofsky shoved into him, no preparation and no care and Kurt having been a virgin.

 

The tears welled up in his eyes and Kurt could not avoid the loud wail that broke from his lips as he felt the pain sear through his body. He knew he was probably torn, rips all through his entrance and tight ring of muscle. The feel of Karofsky's thick, heavy, hard cock being shoved right up his ass without first prepping and stretching or using any form of lubrication was something Kurt never ever wanted to feel again. Not like that.

 

Sobs wracked through his body as Karofsky continued his assault. He hadn't bothered to wait for Kurt to adjust to him being inside of him either. He just went right into thrusting, pounding himself into Kurt over and over again. All Kurt could do was sob, his wrists being chaffed by the handcuffs keeping him fastened to the bed.

 

The boy tried to ignore the grunts and moans of pleasure that were coming from Karofsky's mouth. He didn't dare lift his head and look back at his assaulter.

 

The worst thing was when the man shoving into him went suddenly still and Kurt felt like he was going to be sick the moment Karofsky's seed spilled inside of him. It didn't help when the action caused Kurt to orgasm himself and he dissolved into more tears.

 

The cocking of the pistol had Kurt shutting his mouth as Karofsky pulled out of him and Kurt felt the pain overwhelm his body.

 

"Such a baby!" Karofsky snarled. "Oh well, best to get rid of the evidence. "Night night lady boy!"

 

There was the sound of a shot ringing out and Kurt had barely enough time to register the new pain in the back of his head before his eyes shut and his life slipped from the world.

 

* * *

 

August 2011

 

"Don't you think we should tell Blaine why we got the house so cheap?" Cecilia Anderson asked her husband Henry.

 

The man glanced over at his youngest son, just days away from beginning his junior year of high school, at a brand new school no less. There was no way he could tell him. No way they could tell him, not after everything Blaine had been through. And certainly not after dropping the bomb about the sudden move.

 

"No Cecilia. We can't tell him," he replied, drawing his eyes back to his wife. Cecilia was wringing her hands nervously.

 

"But what if Blaine goes up in the attic?" she questioned in a harsh whisper, eyeing her son. Blaine was standing on the lawn just staring up at the house. His dark curls were gelled down neatly and his red and white checked bow tie was centered perfectly over the black polo he wore.

 

Henry sighed. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it but I can't see why Blaine would ever want to go into the attic." Cecilia opened her mouth to protest but Henry hurried on. "I will take whatever boxes we don't need up there myself. Blaine will never need to go up there."

 

Cecilia bit her lip as though she wasn't sure but nodded her head all the same.

 

Blaine wasn't stupid. He knew his parents weren't telling him something. They were well off so why the hell had they paid so little for this house? Surely it was worth more. What were they keeping from him?

 

His eyes roamed up to an open window at the top of the house. Wait, open? Had that been open when they got there? The curtains from it were blowing in the late summer breeze. Blaine could hear his parents bickering about something behind him.

 

That was when he saw it.

 

A boy appeared in the window. He was dressed in white and though Blaine was all the way down on the ground, he could tell that he looked miserable, extremely sad. His eyes seemed to lock on Blaine's and for a moment the two of them just stared at each other before the boy shut the window, turned away, and was gone.

 

"Who was he?" Blaine suddenly asked, turning to look at his parents. Cecilia and Henry startled and turned to look at their son in surprise.

 

"Who was who Blaine?" Henry asked.

 

Blaine pointed up at the window. "The boy in the window. Who was he?"

 

Cecilia and Henry exchanged glances but neither of them made any move to answer Blaine. Instead, Henry clapped his hands together as though his son had not just asked him a rather peculiar question.

 

"Okay, let's get started moving in, shall we?" he said instead.

 

Blaine sighed heavily, knowing that he was not going to get an answer out of his parents. With one last glance up at that window, he followed his father to the moving truck and started helping unload the boxes.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and stuff so far. It means a lot to me. I probably could have finished this chapter yesterday but I was battling an issue and had something else to worry about. Here it is now! Comments make me smile! No Kurt directly in this chapter. Enjoy!

The first night in the house seemed like nothing out of the ordinary to Henry and Cecilia but Blaine was unconvinced. He was still aware that his parents were keeping something from him. And moving boxes into his room, which happened to be beneath the attic, he swore that he kept hearing sounds like footsteps above his head.

 

At one point, he stopped with the box in his hands and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if he ought to go up there and see what was making the noise.

 

He'd placed the box on his bed and journeyed out of his room to the door just a little ways down the hall but just as he was about to open it, Henry came up to the second floor landing and asked what he was doing. Blaine told him nothing and reverted back into his new room, shutting the door behind him.

 

Later that night, he lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was quiet and he heard nothing for a long time. He decided that he probably wasn't going to but the truth of the matter was that he didn't think he could sleep. Not because he was in a new house but because his mind wouldn't shut off.

 

Who was that boy he saw in the window? Why did he keep hearing sounds like footsteps above him? What were his parents hiding that they wouldn't tell him?

 

Turning over onto his side, Blaine stared at the wall. His dresser was going to be pushed into place against that wall the next day. Not that it was of any importance but Blaine knew if he didn't get any sleep, he wasn't going to have the energy to do that.

 

And then he heard it. A soft beautiful sound. It sounded like an angel singing. Blaine didn't recognize the song but it sounded sad and he couldn't fathom where it was coming from.

 

But it did the trick. Listening to the soft sweet melody of the unknown song, Blaine drifted off to sleep, wishing he could thank the singer.

 

The next few days followed in much the same pattern. Unpacking and organizing things, more footsteps on the ceiling, and the singing came, always at night and always sad, though it was eerily soothing. It never frightened Blaine.

 

On the fourth day, the last free weekday of the summer, as Blaine's first day of school was the following Monday, the seventeen year old caught his father opening the door to the attic. He had a box in his hands that looked rather heavy.

 

"Want me to take that for you?" Blaine asked.

 

Henry startled as he swung open the attic door, carefully balancing the box in his arms.

 

"What? Oh no Blaine, that's okay. You finish setting up your room," he replied, giving his son an encouraging smile. Blaine just looked at him.

 

"What do you have against me going up in the attic?" he asked resolutely, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Henry waved it off. "Oh, you don't want to go up there Blaine. It's old and musky and smells pretty bad. Not to mention how dirty it is. You'll ruin your clothes. No, you just worry about setting up your room and leave the attic to me okay?"

 

The look on his face told Blaine there was more to it than that but he didn't question him. He was going to find out if it was the last thing he did though. He hoped it wouldn't be.

 

It wasn't until Blaine finally started his new school that he got some answers.

 

"Hi!" piped up an overly bright and cheery voice, especially for the early morning hour, as Blaine fiddled with his locker combination.

 

He jumped, startled at the sudden voice and turned to face its owner to find a petite brunette girl standing there grinning a megawatt smile at him.

 

"Um…hi," Blaine replied hesitantly.

 

"You must be new!" she said. Before Blaine got the chance to confirm that she was already offering her hand for a shake and continuing. "I'm Rachel Berry, star of the New Directions, the Glee Club here at McKinley." Blaine's ears perked up a little more at the words 'glee club' and he became interested. He'd been a part of the Warblers back at his old school, Dalton Academy. "Do you sing? Because you look like you might and I'm always looking for more backup singers for my stupendous solos," she went on, placing a hand dramatically to her chest.

 

"Man hands let the sexy new hobbit breathe," came a new voice. Blaine peered over the head of the girl named Rachel to spot a Latina girl with a ponytail and wearing a cheerleading uniform approaching the two of them with a seductive smile on her face.

 

Rachel huffed. "I was just getting the new student acquainted with the need for new backup singers in Glee Santana," she quipped.

 

The girl called Santana rolled her eyes. "Not everyone is interested in singing backup Berry. Some of us want to be in the spotlight."

 

Rachel was about to retort when Blaine cut her off. "Actually, I am interested in joining the Glee Club. I was in Glee Club at my old school," he said, plastering a dapper smile on his face.

 

His charm seemed to be getting to Rachel, something Blaine was oblivious to but Santana seemed not to miss.

 

"Stop drooling man hands. Look, sexy hobbit, if you wanna join Glee, be in the choir room at lunch for an audition," the Latina cheerleader said before starting to walk off. "I've gotta meet Britts." She purposefully sashayed down the corridor but became a bit suspicious when Blaine's eyes didn't train themselves on her. A smirk crossed her face. Oh yes, Santana knew. But Santana always knew.

 

Blaine looked a bit dumbfounded and he completely missed the fact that Rachel was talking to him.

 

"Hello! Earth to new kid!" she shouted and Blaine shook his head off and remembered she was there.

 

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked. Rachel looked offended, as though she couldn't believe anyone would bother ignoring her to her face. She tapped her foot in aggravation.

 

"I asked what your name was," she said with an irritated sigh.

 

"Oh!" Blaine replied. "Sorry. I'm Blaine, Blaine Anderson."

 

Rachel's jaw hit the floor and she gawked at him. Blaine began to feel slightly uncomfortable and shifted from foot to foot nervously. Why was she gawking at him like that?

 

"The Blaine Anderson?! As in lead singer of the Warblers Blaine Anderson?!" Rachel finally manage to shriek out. Blaine became aware of several pairs of eyes glancing over at them curiously and he flushed a deep pink. All he could manage was a small nod.

 

Before he found his voice again so he could elaborate, Rachel immediately linked their arms and started chattering away as though the were best friends. In truth, Blaine was already finding the girl to be quite annoying but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything.

 

"—And then we can have beautiful Eurasian babies who will have powerful voices just like us and live happily ever after. What do you think Blaine?" he finally caught her saying.

 

For a long moment, he just stared at her. Eurasian babies? Was she talking about getting married? Oh good God! Blaine had never been so thankful to be gay in his life before.

 

"As wonderful as that sounds Rachel," he started, hoping beyond hope the chattery brunette wouldn't cut in. "I don't play for your team," he finished.

 

Rachel looked like a kicked puppy. Blaine had been the perfect answer to everything in her plans and now he tells her that he's gay? Not that she had a problem with that at all as she had two gay dads but why was her perfect match gay? Now she would have to go back to Finn.

 

The pout on her face was still there when the warning bell rang a moment later and Blaine was so happy for an excuse to get away from her.

 

He waved by and hurried off to find his first class.

 

* * *

 

Blaine was relieved to find that he seemed to have no trouble at all finding his way around the school. It wasn't too hard. The layout wasn't nearly as complicated as Dalton had been. But than, McKinley was a public school. It looked like many other schools so he shouldn't be too surprised.

 

When lunch time arrived, he grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria and headed off to the choir room. When he got there, he noticed it was full of kids, the only two of which he recognized were Rachel and Santana. They were seemingly in the middle of an argument.

 

"It's my solo," Rachel was saying. "You can't have it!"

 

A dark skinned girl was shaking her head. "I've had just about enough of this Rachel Berry. You get all the opportunities to shine. Well in case you haven't noticed, you're not the only talented person in this club. Not to mention, not the only senior. We all deserve a chance to shine, especially considering this is the last year for some of us."

 

Blaine didn't really want to interrupt but he figured if he was going to join the club, he might as well do something. Hadn't the cheerleader said to be there at lunch to audition?

 

Clearing his throat, he knocked politely on the door. "Excuse me," he said quietly, feeling his ears grow warm as a flush spread across his face.

 

"Can we help you?" A big guy with a mohawk replied suspiciously. Rachel jumped out of her seat with a bright smile on her face. Blaine swore that if she kept smiling like that, one day the wind was going to change and her face would be stuck that way. He shuddered at the thought. Rachel's megawatt grin was somewhat blinding.

 

"Blaine!" she cried happily, hurrying over to him and linking their arms before dragging him into the room. "Everyone, this is Blaine Anderson! He's here to audition for Glee!"

 

There were various hellos and introductions around the room. Santana greeted him with a snarky comment and Rachel dragged him over to sit by her.

 

"So where are you from dude?" a boy named Finn asked.

 

Blaine offered him a smile. "Oh, um. I'm from Westerville actually. My parents and I just moved here about a week ago. I used to be the lead singer of the Dalton Academy Warblers."

 

The dark skinned girl, whose name Blaine learned was Mercedes jumped up at that. "I knew you looked familiar!" she cried out. "Does he actually have to audition to get in?"

 

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Of course he does Mercedes. Everyone has to audition." Mercedes threw her a look.

 

"So like, where do you live dude?" Finn went on.

 

"Finn!" Rachel shouted. "Stop being so nosy!"

 

Blaine laughed and shook his head. "No, it's okay. We moved into that two story house on the corner of Whitman Avenue."

 

The room went dead silent as everyone stared at him in utter disbelief. Blaine swallowed. Had he said something wrong?

 

A blonde boy, named Sam broke the silence. "You actually live there?" he asked.

 

Blaine scratched the back of his neck in nervousness. "Um…yeah?" He didn't know why he said it as a question.

 

The lot of them glanced at each other before Santana spoke up.

 

"Are your parents like the mayors of crazy town or something hobbit?" she asked. Blaine was taken aback by her words and a little bit offended. "Nobody would dare buy that house."

 

That was when Blaine remembered that his parents were definitely keeping something from him and well, if they wouldn't tell him, maybe these kids would. He sighed and ran a hand over his gelled head.

 

"They know something that they're not telling me, probably has to do with the reason they got the house so cheap. I know something's going on. My room is right below the attic and I keep hearing footsteps and every night, someone sings, a beautiful voice but always a sad song." He paused, looking around at the others who were glancing at one another again. "On the day we arrived, I saw a boy in the window at the top of the house," he added in a whisper.

 

Wide eyes and shocked expressions went up around the room at his admission and for a moment, nobody could do anything but stare.

 

"You saw him?" Rachel asked finally, her voice unusually quiet.

 

"Saw who?"

 

It was a blonde girl named Quinn who answered him. "Kurt Hummel," she said simply.

 

"Who's Kurt Hummel?" Blaine asked, instantly intrigued.

 

Rachel put a hand on his arm. "They call him the boy in the attic," she started, pausing to see if anyone else wanted to tell the story. When no one said a word, she went on. "Blaine, Kurt was raped and murdered in the attic of that house on his seventeenth birthday in 1943."

 

Blaine froze. A boy was dead in his house. A boy had died in his house. That was why his parents had gotten the house so cheap. Because it was rumored to be haunted. And that was why his parents wouldn't let him go up in the attic. Did they actually believe there was something up there? Blaine knew that after actually seeing that boy in the window, there was no way it wasn't haunted but he would have believed anyway. His parents on the other hand, were actually the skeptical type. So why wouldn't they let him go in the attic?

 

The junior was distracted the rest of the Glee meeting, except for when he sang his audition song and was welcomed by the rest of the club and Mr. Schue, the club's advisor. The wheels in his head continued turning throughout the rest of his first day of school and by the time he was getting into his car to go home, he'd made a decision. He was going to confront his parents.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! Another knew chapter! I've done this to make up for not finishing the last one yesterday. Though I may be a bit attached to this particular fic. I have ideas for the future of it and an ending that could lead to a sequel. Anyway, comments make me smile! Enjoy!

Blaine sat in his car for several minutes after he had parked in the driveway. He was stewing in his thoughts, running over and over in his mind exactly how he was going to approach his parents about this. He could feel his anger rising with each passing second. No, he couldn't go off on them. They had to have a logical reason for not telling him right?

 

Subconsciously, his eyes cast up and fell once more on that window to what he was now sure was the attic. It was open again, curtains blowing once more. Blaine would have thought his dad might have opened it to try and air out the musky space were it not for the fact that the boy in white was standing there again. He seemed to be looking right at Blaine.

 

That did it. The dam burst and suddenly Blaine didn't give a flying fuck whether or not his parents had a good reason. All he cared about was that they seemed to think he wasn't smart enough to notice odd things or find out the truth.

 

Swinging the door to his car open with force, Blaine climbed out and slammed it shut. He marched up to the front door of the house, glad both his parents were home this afternoon, and shoved his key into the lock. When it clicked, he flung the front door open and stormed into the entrance hall, through to the living room without bothering to shut the door behind him.

 

"Hi Bl—" his mother started when he entered the living room.

 

"Don't give me that 'hi Blaine' bullshit!" Blaine cut her off. Cecilia looked at her son with alarm. She had never heard Blaine swear before. Cooper maybe, but not Blaine, not her perfect gentleman of a son. She glanced at Henry who was equally stunned at his outburst. "You knew!" Blaine went on. "You knew a boy was raped and murdered in this house and didn't have the decency to tell me!"

 

Dead silence. His parents glanced at each other.

 

"How did you find that out Blaine?" Mr. Anderson asked his son quietly.

 

Blaine mock laughed at him, folding his arms across his chest and glaring daggers at his father. "You aren't denying it," he said, ignoring the question.

 

"That's not the point Blaine. How did you find out?" Henry pressed, attempting to keep his voice calm but even at the same time.

 

"Some kids at school told me. Said he was raped and murdered in the attic on his birthday in 1943. People think the house is haunted. That's why you won't let me go into the attic, isn't it?" He was staring hard at both his parents, waiting for answers.

 

Henry and Cecilia glanced at each other. Cecilia had a hand on her chest.

 

"Blaine sweetheart," she started. "You know there's no such things as ghosts."

 

Blaine scoffed. Of course she would say that. Why else would they shrug off the warning of the house being haunted and buy it anyway? Because they didn't believe in ghosts. He thought briefly about telling his parents that he'd seen the boy who had been killed but held his tongue.

 

"Than why won't you let me go in the attic?" he asked. Really, if they didn't believe in ghosts, than what reason was there to keep him out of the attic?

 

Henry placed his hands in his lap, folded neatly. "How much do you know about the incident Blaine?" he asked.

 

The curly-haired boy looked at his father in confusion for a moment before he retorted. "What does that have to do with why you won't let me go up there?" He glared at his father, waiting for answers.

 

"Just answer the question Blaine," Henry said calmly.

 

The boy rolled his eyes. "Exactly what I told you, that a boy was raped and murdered in the attic on his birthday in 1943. And that his name was Kurt Hummel."

 

Henry and Cecilia exchanged glances again before Henry sighed and took his glasses off, setting them on the table.

 

"So these kids don't know details?" he asked. Blaine was getting more confused.

 

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

 

Henry stood from his chair and walked over to the fireplace. "Son, the 1940s in Lima were the age of a gang called the Titan Gang. They murdered and robbed people in cold blood," he started. Blaine's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "The leader was named David Karofsky and he was one of the most brutal criminals of the age. It was later revealed that he was a closeted gay." Blaine cringed. He couldn't imagine not being out and proud. But than that was the 1940s. It wasn't quite so easy at that time.

 

"So, what happened?" he asked, knowing his father probably had the whole story. Surely the owner of the house had the history.

 

Henry sighed. "Kurt Hummel was the son of Burt Hummel, proprietor of Hummel Tires & Lube and the Hummel Hotel. They were celebrating Kurt's seventeenth birthday at the hotel." Blaine moved to sit on the couch, wondering where this was going. "The Titan Gang crashed it. Witnesses at the time said that Karofsky demanded Burt's son and when Burt told him he couldn't have him, Karofsky shot him  in the chest, killed him on the spot." Blaine gasped and stared at his father wide eyed.

 

"And then what happened?" he asked, pressing Henry to go on.

 

Henry was pacing by now. "He had his companions drag Kurt out of the hotel. They brought him to this very house and up to the attic. Police reports say when they found Kurt Hummel's body the next morning, he was handcuffed to the bed, face down with his hair matted with blood and his rectum bleeding and dripped dried come." Blaine swallowed hard at the image. That poor boy. "He was shot once in the back of the head Blaine. Sources suspect that Karofsky singled Kurt out because Kurt was also gay, though he was struggling to keep it from his father because he didn't want to hurt his reputation."

 

Blaine didn't know what to say to all this. He thought he had an idea now why his parents didn't want him up in that attic. It wasn't because a boy had died there and may be haunting it. It was because the boy had been a victim of gay rape and that could easily be Blaine. They didn't want him to go through his days scared that one day some boy would do that to him.

 

The seventeen year old swallowed. "You know, it wouldn't matter if you didn't tell me that and let me go in the attic. There's nothing to worry about if I don't know, right?"

 

Cecilia whimpered, her eyes tearing up. Henry moved to wrap an arm around his wife and sighed.

 

"If we let you go up there, we'd crack soon enough and tell you. Believe or not Blaine, the fact that we know has us just as scared of that happening to you as you knowing. If we let you go up in the attic on the pretense of not knowing, the guilt would grow until we couldn't take it anymore."

 

"And then you'd tell me anyway," Blaine finished quietly. Henry nodded. "What happened to Karofsky? Was he ever caught?"

 

Blaine saw his mother tense up and Henry held her tighter. That was enough to give Blaine his answer.

 

"No, Blaine. He wasn't. Witnesses at the party identified the Titan Gang as the men who had crashed and Karofsky as the one who had killed Burt Hummel. They caught the other two but never found David."

 

Blaine swallowed. So Karofsky had killed Burt Hummel in cold blood, taken his son, supposedly raped and murdered him - they had no proof that he was the one who did it, as forensics weren't nearly as advanced in the 1940s as they were now and they couldn't test the semen, especially dried - and was never caught and charged with the act. Blaine hoped the man was dead and living in hell.

 

"Didn't his companions say anything?"

 

Henry shook his head. "Azimio Adams and Rick Nelson were loyal to their leader. They claimed they had no idea where he had gone but if they really did, they kept their mouths shut and took it to the grave when they were executed some years later," he said.

 

So Karofsky had never been caught, and his companions had never talked. No wonder Kurt seemed to be a restless spirit. Blaine decided right then and there that he was going to do everything he could to make sure Kurt got some sort of justice. Now all he had to do was meet the boy.

 

* * *

 

Kurt watched the boy. He watched him enter the house. He watched him leave the house. He watched him get in and out of his automobile. If you could still call it that.

 

Time no longer existed for the boy in the white tux. He couldn't leave the house. He could leave the attic but he couldn't leave and go outside. He was stuck there. He had been for the last sixty-eight years. Though with no awareness of time, it seemed to fly by.

 

This was the first time anyone had really moved into the house. As far as Kurt knew it had belonged to the Titan Gang in 1943 and no one had bought it afterward. A few people had rented it but they hadn't stayed long enough to make it a home. Kurt had scared them off. In some cases deliberately. He didn't like strangers in his home.

 

But this boy was different. This boy had pulled his focus. This boy was someone Kurt found himself staring at more than once. He knew his room was right below his attic. He had ventured down there on several occasions, always when the boy was gone. But now, after what he had heard between the boy - whose name he picked up to be Blaine - and his parents, Kurt felt the strong sense of wanting to make sure he was all right.

 

He wasn't sure of the hour, only that the night had fallen and all was quiet within the house. Its occupants were more than likely partaking in sleep.

 

Sleep. Kurt longed to be able to sleep again. But he was dead. He had no need for sleep.

 

Quietly as he could, the boy made his way down from the attic and into Blaine's room. He paused in the doorway, watching the gorgeous boy.

 

Eyelashes fluttered slightly, fanning out over his olive toned cheeks. His chest rose and fell with the effort of breathing. Kurt stood still and placed a hand on his own chest, knowing that it would not expand because he didn't need to breathe.

 

Slowly and cautiously, the pale boy crept closer. Blaine's lips were parted and a low moan made its way out of his mouth. Kurt froze in both horror and fascination.

 

Sixty-eight years later, the sounds of Karofsky's moans as he thrust into him still reverberated in his ears. As did the gun shot. Despite being dead, Kurt still jumped at banging noises, always fearing that his murderer had returned to do it all over again.

 

But there was no way that was possible. Karofsky would more than likely be dead by now. Kurt himself would have been about eighty-five if he was still alive and he knew Karofsky was older than him. So, unless he was a very old withered man, he was probably dead. That did nothing to set Kurt at ease though.

 

In the back of his mind, he had this inkling that something wasn't right. If his murderer was dead and his companions were dead, shouldn't Kurt have moved on and crossed over already? Given that he was still here, there was something still left to do. The question was what?

 

Hesitantly, Kurt took a few steps forward, watching the boy sleep. Blaine's legs suddenly kicked at the blankets and he jerked in his sleep. Kurt froze again.

 

He watched in awe as the boy fell into some sort of fitful sleep. Beginning to toss and turn and whimper in his sleep. A nightmare, Kurt deduced.

 

Thinking quickly, Kurt started singing the first song that came to mind, attempting to soothe him.

 

Come Josephine

My flying machine

And it's up she goes

Up she goes

 

Kurt was well aware the song was before his time. It had come out years before he was born but that didn't mean anything. He didn't exactly know any of the songs from the present day. He had a few from years past, during times when the house had been rented but that was about it. Other than that, he only had songs from before or during his lifetime.

 

He continued singing the song gently as Blaine seemed to soothe back into an easy sleep.

 

"Kurt…" came out of the boy's mouth, cutting the pale boy off. Kurt stared at him. He knew Blaine knew his name. The discussion he'd overheard between the boy and his parents was enough to tell him that. But to hear Blaine actually speak it aloud was something else.

 

Kurt stared at him in wonder as Blaine relaxed his movements and settled down into peaceful sleep once more.

 

Feeling the courage within him suddenly grow, Kurt stepped up to the bed. Slowly and cautiously, he reached out a hand and placed it on Blaine's head. The curls beneath his fingers were incredibly soft. Kurt felt like he could run his fingers through them for all eternity.

 

That thought had him jumping back. Blaine whimpered slightly and turned over in the bed. Kurt stared at his own hand. Had Blaine liked it there?

 

"Kurt…" Blaine said again. Kurt cautiously came back to the bed. He stood there, staring down at the living boy lost in sleep. Oh how he wanted to take him away with him. Kurt realized with a pang in the heart that no longer beat, he wanted to keep Blaine forever.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out shorter than I would have liked but I always end a chapter when I feel it has come to an end and so far, this is the shortest in the story as it's less than 2000 words. Hopefully, I won't write anymore that short again. But I couldn't fathom how to make it longer. Comments make me smile! And thanks for all the kudos. Enjoy!

The next day found Blaine in McKinley's library during the lunch period. He'd been rifling through history books and things, though he doubted very much that he would find any information on Kurt and his history in the school library. Certainly nothing on the Titan Gang.

He also couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been present in his room while he slept. Someone had brought him out of a nightmare with a soothing song. Someone had touched his head if only for a brief moment. That someone had to be Kurt. Or at least, that was what Blaine imagined.

"Looking for something specific hobbit?" asked a voice. Blaine looked up to see Santana leaning over on the table as he rifled through the books he'd taken off the shelves to research.

Blaine drew a breath. "I'm trying to find more on Kurt Hummel," he said slowly. He shook his head. "But of course, school libraries don't have everything."

Santana seemed to study him for a moment before she stood up and flounced off to a stack Blaine hadn't looked at yet. He watched her curiously for a moment, wondering what she was doing before thinking that maybe she just decided to ignore him and go about her business.

But a moment later, she returned and set a yearbook down on the table. 1942 - 1943 school year was marked on the cover.

"This is a Thunderclap from the last year Kurt would have been in school before he died. His birthday was May 27," she stated. "So he was just shy of completing his junior year. Everyone knows that Kurt lived in Lima his whole life so he had to have gone to McKinley."

Blaine looked skeptical. "Santana, his father was wealthy. Wouldn't Kurt have had a private tutor or something?"

The Cheerio shook her head. "Nope," she replied, popping the p. "What you need to learn hobbit is that Burt Hummel was a very generous man. He was humble and always considered himself equal to everyone, regardless of wealth. So he would have sent Kurt to school."

She joined him at the table and flipped open the yearbook. Before they could even start the search through the juniors for Kurt's picture, they were stopped by the first page, which was a large embossed black and white copy of Kurt's school photo. Printed beneath the picture were the words, 'In Loving Memory, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel'.

Blaine stared at the photo for a long time. "That's him," he said in a whisper. "That's the boy I've seen in the attic window."

Santana just stared at him in wonder. Blaine had seen him. Blaine had actually seen Kurt. This was big news, big news indeed.

"Do you think they have anything on the Titan Gang?" Blaine asked, turning to look at Santana.

She frowned. "Why do you want information on that notorious gang?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Because their leader, David Karofsky was responsible for Burt and Kurt's deaths but they never caught him," Blaine replied.

Santana choked on air and stared at him wide eyed. "Pardon me hobbit but did you just say David Karofsky?" she asked.

"Um, yeah why?" he said slowly.

The Latina was shaking her head. "That's not possible."

"What?" Blaine replied, confused. "Why?"

Santana fixed her gaze straight ahead of her. "David Karofsky is one of the football players," she said quietly and Blaine felt like he was going to be sick.

* * *

Kurt had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Blaine was gone again, off to school he suspected. Did McKinley still exist? That didn't matter right now. What mattered was that the pale boy was sitting on Blaine's bed, running a hand over the comforter. Oh how much softer it was than his own bed in the attic. Not that Kurt needed a bed because he didn't sleep but that wasn't the point.

He was transfixed by all the modern day things in the room. Picking up different products and examining them with wonder and fascination. He'd found a tub labeled gel. It was the stuff he'd sometimes seen Blaine put in his hair. Though Kurt couldn't imagine why. The boy had the most gorgeous curls he'd ever seen.

He was intending to leave the room before Blaine returned. He knew the boy had seen him in the window but he just couldn't…didn't think he was ready to see him face to face.

Unfortunately, given the fact that time did not exist for him and he was engrossed in examining all the gadgets in the room, he was going to end up meeting Blaine whether he wanted to or not.

"What are you doing?" piped up a sudden voice, startling Kurt who had been running his fingers over the face of a guitar that sat in a corner.

The tall pale boy whipped his head around to see Blaine standing in the doorway, his eyes wide as saucers and his shoulder bag looking quite a bit bulkier than Kurt remembered seeing it on previous days.

The dead boy blanched and his immediate thought was to vanish to the attic but something in Blaine's gaze had him rooted to the spot. The boy was looking at him with the same sort of wonder Kurt had been looking at the items in his room with. As though Blaine had never expected to see Kurt up this close.

"I…um…" Kurt stuttered. Good thing he was dead because if he wasn't he'd probably be blushing right about then. Than again, if he wasn't dead, he'd be an eighty-five year old man so…

Blaine stared at him in wonder for another moment before moving to the bed and carefully setting his bag down on it. He pulled a bunch of extra books out of the bag. One of which, Kurt noticed, was a McKinley yearbook from the last year he had attended school.

"Why do you have that?" Kurt asked curiously, suddenly finding his voice.

The curly-haired boy whipped his head around as he set another couple books Kurt found were from the public library on top of the yearbook.

"Oh…um…" he said, not sure how to reply to that. "There's um…a memorandum to you in it." Blaine actually did blush and the color flooding his cheeks looked so beautiful to Kurt and…no he couldn't think like that. Blaine was a living breathing human being. Kurt was…not. The dead could not have relations with the living.

He shook his head off and inclined it to the side. "Oh?" he asked, surprised at this news.

Blaine's face brightened and he pulled the yearbook out from under the other books and brought it over to him. "Of course!" he said, opening the book and showing him the front page. "See?"

Kurt stared down at the picture of himself with the 'In Loving Memory' beneath it. He had no idea he'd made any kind of impact at school.

And then it hit him. He didn't make an impact. Kurt shoved the book away, scoffed, and turned around, sticking his nose up in the air.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked.

Kurt rubbed his arms like he was cold, though he couldn't feel temperature because he was dead. He kept his gaze out of Blaine's bedroom window and didn't look at him.

"That's not a memorandum because they all loved me. That's a memorandum because I was the wealthiest kid in the school and they felt obligated to put me on a platform," he said bitterly. "Where'd you get that anyway?" he asked, changing the subject.

"The McKinley High library," Blaine replied simply, feeling bad that Kurt seemed to think he was thought so little of. "I'm Blaine, Blaine Anderson," he then introduced, realizing he'd been conversing with the dead boy and hadn't properly introduced himself yet.

Kurt thought about saying that he already knew but wasn't sure how creeped out Blaine would be by that. So instead he merely said, "Kurt Hummel."

Blaine smiled softly. Was he insane? He was talking to a dead boy and he wasn't even fazed by it. He decided it might not be the smartest thing to share with the kids in the Glee Club, lest they think he's crazy.

"What are the other books for?" Kurt asked suddenly. Blaine blushed again.

"Oh! Those are from the local public library. They're supposed to have information on the Titan Gang."

Kurt paled, which was a feat, considering he was not only dead but naturally pale to begin with.

"Why would you want to know about them?" he asked quietly.

Blaine sighed and dropped down onto his bed. How exactly did he phrase this? It certainly wasn't going to be easy and he definitely didn't think he wanted to tell Kurt that there was a jock at McKinley with the same name as the man who had raped and killed him. But something told him the dead boy deserved to know.

"This isn't going to be easy Kurt." Kurt felt a strange flutter in his stomach when the other boy said his name. Blaine sighed again and bit his lip and Kurt felt his insides flip. "David Karofsky was never caught Kurt. No one ever found him after he killed you." Kurt winced and Blaine gave him an apologetic look. "But I have reason to believe wherever he was, he was reproducing," he went on.

The dead boy's eyes got really wide. "Why do you believe that?" he asked.

Blaine was silent for several moments. This was it. This was the thing he had been dreading the most about telling Kurt but the boy had to know.

"Because, there's a jock at McKinley now with the same exact name."

As Blaine had expected, what little color the dead boy had, drained completely and he watched him begin shaking his head frantically.

"No, no, no! That's not possible!" Kurt screamed out in hysterics. An angry sort of aggravated look came over him. "Bet you think it's funny don't you?!" he shouted.

"What? Kurt no! I swear I'm not playing games with you," Blaine said quickly, trying to convey with his eyes that he wasn't lying.

Kurt clicked his tongue. "A likely story Blaine! No one could reproduce with David Karofsky because he was a homosexual! Bet you have something against us! You and your preppy little bow ties and slicked curls and phony grins! This is all a game to you isn't it? It's just one big joke! Well I'm not laughing!"

"Kurt! I could never have anything against gay people because I'm—"

"Save it!" Kurt cut him off. Without another word, he vanished. Blaine immediately heard him stomping through the attic. He groaned and dropped his face into his hands. He'd barely begun to know the boy and he'd already stepped in it.

"Nice going Blaine," he told himself flatly. This was going to be one hell of a fix.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is so very late today but I just procrastinated writing it all day. Silly me. Anyway, flashback parts have begun. We'll be getting some history on what happened to the members of the Titan Gang after Kurt's murder. The first one is in here and the backstory I'm building for them should explain their new replicated ancestors. Comments make me smile! Thank you for all your support! Enjoy!

May 28, 1943

 

"Well lookie here, my handy work made the morning papers," Karofsky snarled as he set a newspaper down on the table in front of Azimio and Rick.

 

The Titan Gang had run from the house after David had done the deed. They were on the lamb and currently in a little shack a number of miles outside of Lima. Little did Azimio and Rick know but Karofsky had plans to abandon them.

 

The big beefy man smoothed over the article announcing Burt Hummel's death and the finding of his son's body, which witnesses had lead them to.

 

"We can't afford for them to find us," Karofsky stated, choosing his words very carefully.

 

The other two glanced at each other and then Azimio spoke for the first time. "You mean, we can't afford for them to find you," he grunted out. Karofsky gave him the evil eye. "Aside from handling the Hummel boy to and from the automobile, we did nothing. We are technically innocent."

 

Karofsky growled and pounded his fist on the table.

 

"You two are guilty by association!"

 

Again, Azimio and Rick glanced at each other. It was Rick who responded this time.

 

"They can't arrest us on those grounds alone, unless they plan on interrogating us, though we would never release any information to the cops," he stated simply. It was clear that neither of them seemed to fear their leader and still, they were loyal to him anyway.

 

Karofsky glared them down for several long moments. "Fine," he said darkly. "If you really think that you'll be safe back in Lima, there's the door. But once you leave, I ain't taking you back!"

 

For the third time in as many minutes, the other two glanced at each other before they both stood and made their way out of the shack, abandoning their leader and leaving him to fend for himself.

 

Three days later, Karofsky read in a local paper that Azimio and Rick had both been caught.

 

"Good riddance yeh idiots," he ground out, crinkling the paper with a smirk on his face. He slapped the bar he was seated at and ordered himself a whiskey. This was definitely the good life.

 

* * *

 

September 2011

 

Blaine didn't see or hear from Kurt again after that and by the time September was underway, he was starting to get a little worried. He was afraid that maybe Kurt was done with him so he decided he needed to do something to both prove that he wasn't playing games and apologize.

 

He took a day to take pictures of the jock known as Dave Karofsky. His full name was David but he went by Dave or Karofsky. He made sure to actually appear subtle while he was doing it. Standing at the water fountain or his locker and snapping a photo with his phone under the pretense of playing on it.

 

"Dude, what are you doing?" It was Finn. Blaine turned to look at him, jumping slightly as he hadn't expected his presence.

 

He glanced both ways before whispering harshly, "Taking pictures of Karofsky."

 

Finn gave him a dumbfounded look. "Why the hell do you want pictures of him?" he asked, completely and utterly clueless as to what in the world Blaine would want with pictures of Karofsky.

 

Blaine cringed. He hadn't exactly planned what he was going to say if he landed in this situation. Granted, if it was Santana who caught him, he could be truthful with her because she had been there that day in the library but it wasn't. It was Finn. And all Finn knew was the basics of Kurt's death and that Blaine had supposedly seen him once.

 

"It's…complicated," he finally said to him.

 

"Does it have to do with Kurt Hummel?" Blaine looked at him, wide-eyed, wondering how Finn had picked up on it so easily, considering he was such a clueless guy most of the time.

 

"How did you know that?" Blaine asked.

 

It was Finn's turn to look both ways. He grabbed Blaine by the arm and pulled him into an empty classroom, locking the door behind him.

 

"I know more about the Hummel case than the others do," he said quietly. Blaine just stared at him.

 

"Oh?" he replied dumbly.

 

Finn shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Yeah," he supplied lamely.

 

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. "Care to elaborate?" he asked.

 

Finn sighed. "My great-grandmother was in courtship with Burt Hummel." Blaine's eyes went wide. "My mom, her granddaughter was named after her. There's an album full of old pictures that my mom keeps in her room. She's shown it to me before. There—there are pictures from the party the night of the murder."

 

The junior didn't know what to say. He was positively stunned. Finn was related to a woman who had a first-hand account of the night Kurt Hummel had died. Of course, Blaine knew her last name couldn't have been Hudson because that was Finn's dad's name. But still, he was related to someone that close on the inside.

 

"She has pictures of the moments the Titan Gang were there," Finn went on quietly. And that was enough proof to tell Blaine he wasn't just pulling his leg. He hadn't said a thing about the Titan Gang or why he wanted pics of the jock. "Karofsky's the spitting image of the man of the same name who murdered Kurt." Blaine swallowed hard. "That's not the worse thing though."

 

The curly-haired boy was completely confused. How could it get any worse?

 

"Azimio and Rick have reincarnated or something too." Blaine just stared at him. "They're McKinley jocks as well. Azimio is a football player like Karofsky, me, Mike, Puck,  and Sam. Rick plays hockey."

 

This just got worse, more complicated than ever before. Could the three of them really be reincarnated? No, that was silly. They had to be relatives named after their criminal ancestors. Azimio and Rick had been executed. Nobody knew what happened to Karofsky but he was surely dead by now, right? But the creepy thing was how the jock Karofsky apparently looked exactly like the old gang member. That sent shivers up Blaine's spine.

 

"Ah hell," he said shortly. This was turning into a live nightmare.

 

* * *

 

That night, Blaine was shaking, standing there staring at the door to the attic. His parents were away for the night, leaving him with the house to himself so he had to do this now if he wanted to do it at all. He clutched his phone in his hand. The information Finn had given him was still swirling around in his head.

 

Blaine took a deep breath. It was now or never. He knew it was probably silly to want to be friends with a dead boy but Kurt was something else. Blaine felt drawn to him, captivated by his undeniable beauty. He needed to know him. He wasn't sure why yet but he knew he needed to.

 

Finally, Blaine resigned himself to what he was about to do. He took another deep breath, pulled open the door to the attic, and slowly started up the stairs.

 

"Kurt?" Blaine called out tentatively as he approached the top. There was no reply. "Kurt?" he tried again, a little louder. Still there was nothing.

 

A few moments later, Blaine reached the top of the stairs and looked around. Aside from an old bed with a sagging mattress and a bunch of boxes his dad had brought up when they moved in, it was empty. There was no one there. Either Kurt wasn't in the attic right then or he had vanished to make himself appear not there the moment he heard Blaine on the stairs. That thought caused Blaine's heart to feel like it was breaking for some odd reason.

 

But why should it? Kurt had made it very clear that he didn't trust Blaine. Blaine had no right to feel hurt at something he should have expected.

 

And then he saw it. The breeze that fluttered the curtain on the window. The odd thing, the window was closed. Kurt had given himself away.

 

"I know you're by the window Kurt," he said quietly. There was no move of making himself visible but Blaine did get a reply.

 

"What do you want? I don't want to see you. You're a fake Blaine Devon Anderson."

 

Blaine felt the sting of his words and opened his mouth to say something when a particular part of what Kurt had said caught his attention.

 

"How do you know my middle name? I never gave that to you. And I know you didn't hear it from my parents because they only use it if I'm in trouble, which is very rare, if ever," he said slowly.

 

It was then that Kurt chose to reveal himself and he turned to look at Blaine, a light blush actually coloring his cheeks.

 

"I um…get kind of curious. Sorry for um…snooping," he said. And just like that, it was gone, the harsh exterior snapped back into place. "But that's not the point. What are you doing here Blaine?" he said, emotion gone from his voice.

 

Blaine, who thought maybe he might have made a breakthrough, sighed.

 

"Kurt, I wanted to say I'm sorry but I swear, I'm not playing games." He held up his cell phone. "I have pictures to prove it."

 

Kurt raised one delicate eyebrow and slowly approached him.

 

"Is that one of those cell phone thingamajigs?" he asked cautiously. Blaine couldn't help but to giggle at that. "Hey, don't laugh at me."

 

"Sorry," Blaine said sincerely. "I just keep forgetting you don't really know anything about modern technology. But yes, it is. I um, took pictures of Dave Karofsky today."

 

Kurt went very still. For several moments, he stared at Blaine, not sure what to say or how to respond. A part of him still wanted to shrug Blaine off like he was a nutcase who was trying to mess with Kurt's head and that fact suddenly caused the phantom pain of the bullet wound at the back of his head to flare up. But another part of him wanted to believe with his whole heart that Blaine was truly being sincere.

 

After a bit of an internal battle, Kurt finally held out a shaky hand. Blaine said he had proof. He wanted to see that proof. He wanted to be sure Blaine wasn't lying to him or toying with him. The other boy carefully placed the phone in his hand.

 

Kurt looked down at it and his breath hitched in his throat, or it would have had he actually been breathing. Displayed on the screen was a photo of a teenage boy who looked uncannily like the man who had raped and murdered him. He was wearing a red jacket. The McKinley football jacket.

 

"I'm so sorry Kurt," Blaine whispered as he watched tears start to stream from the dead boy's eyes. He wondered briefly if he should tell him about Azimio and Rick too but decided that might be a little too much for Kurt to handle right about now. Dead or not, he still didn't need to have everything thrown at him at once.

 

Kurt looked up at him. "No," he said quietly. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I just…I thought you were trying to have me because you had something against homosexuals."

 

Blaine frantically shook his head. "Oh no Kurt! I would never do that! I don't have anything against being gay because well, I'm gay too."

 

Kurt stared at him for a moment before he frowned. "I'm not happy Blaine and I don't see how you are either."

 

For a moment, Blaine was confused before he mentally smacked himself in the head. Right, Kurt probably wasn't used to looser terms and gay did mean happy too.

 

He shook his head. "No, Kurt, gay today is another term for a homosexual male," he explained. "What I was trying to say is I have nothing against homosexuals because I am a homosexual."

 

Again, Kurt just stared at him. "You say that like it's not a big deal," he said quietly.

 

"In this day and age, it kind of isn't. Well, in New York and California and other parts of the country but Ohio is still conservative and a lot of people here still disapprove. But there is nothing wrong with being yourself and there are certain places you can go and get married legally nowadays," Blaine explained.

 

"Homosexuals? Married?" Kurt stared at him in wonder and Blaine nodded his head, a small smile on his face. "Wow…" he trailed off, eyes going back to the window.

 

Blaine hated to wipe that wondrous look off his face but he had to. "Look, Kurt, I don't know what the deal is with this new Karofsky, but I'm sure he's not good news."

 

Kurt sighed. "No, you're right. He probably isn't." It was then that a light bulb went off in the dead boy's head. "Oh my stars!" he cried.

 

"What?" Blaine asked, clearly confused.

 

Kurt looked at him. "This must be the reason why I haven't moved on yet, if the Titan Gang is gone. I didn't get justice with my real murderer, but I can sure as hell get justice with his replica."

 

A dark look crossed Kurt's features and Blaine had the sudden feeling that things were about to get very very chaotic.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry it took so long! I've been doing work on a one-shot I'll get up when it's done and not really doing much other writing but here's a new chapter! And we're in for a little adventure after this one. The next chapter should probably be hilarious. You'll understand when you finish reading this one. Two more New Directions members meet Kurt here. Comments make me smile! Enjoy!

Kurt was at a loss. He watched Blaine leave every morning for school and stayed at the window waiting for his automobile to return.

 

He was certain that Karofsky's double was the reason he was still here. The problem was, Kurt had never been able to actually leave the house. He couldn't even go out in the backyard. And he was damn certain that Karofksy wouldn't be coming to the house. So what exactly did he do?

 

When he'd brought this fact up to Blaine, the living boy had told him he'd do research at the library to see if he could find any sort of loop hole.

 

Kurt exclaimed that he didn't think the McKinley library would be very helpful at all. To which, Blaine replied that he'd go to the public library instead. So now, Kurt waited a little longer each day while Blaine did research at the public library.

 

Today however, was different. Kurt saw Blaine's automobile pull up in the drive sooner than it had been the past few days and he frowned slightly. When Blaine got out, the dead boy was just able to make out the book in his hands.

 

He watched Blaine hurry into the house, heard him greet his parents through the grate, and then his footsteps on the stairs. He immediately made his way down from the attic to Blaine's room below him. Knowing that Blaine's parents were home, meant Blaine couldn't come see him in the attic. He technically wasn't allowed to be up there.

 

Blaine burst into his room to find the dead boy sitting on the bed.

 

"You're home early," Kurt said softly. Blaine grinned at him.

 

"I know. I found a book that might be able to help us. I borrowed it out," he replied, holding up the book and waving it in the air.

 

"Oh," Kurt said, frowning slightly. He was a bit skeptical because Blaine had thus far been unsuccessful in finding anything that could help out.

 

"It's about spirits and unfinished business," Blaine told him, sitting down beside Kurt on the bed. He blushed slightly when their knees touched and smiled up at the dead boy.

 

"Unfinished business?" Kurt questioned. He shook. "I don't have any unfinished business. Well, except never graduating high school."

 

Blaine sighed and shook his head. "No Kurt. You do have unfinished business. You wouldn't still be here if you didn't."

 

Kurt looked down at the floor. If he had unfinished business, why didn't he know what it was? He furrowed his brow. Sixty-eight years in the afterlife and so far the only clue he had managed to get was that it likely had something to do with his murderer's double.

 

Blaine opened the book and started flipping through the pages. Kurt watched him, admiring the concentrated look on the curly-haired boy's face. He was so unbelievably gorgeous and—no, he couldn't think like that. Blaine was alive. He was dead. Nothing could happen between them. Even if he was alive nothing could happen between them because Kurt would be eighty-five. He shuddered at the thought.

 

"A ha!" Blaine cried out a moment later. Startled, Kurt glanced to him and watched the boy point out something in the book. But just as Blaine was about to explain, they heard the doorbell ring.

 

Blaine and Kurt glanced at each other and the dead boy bit his lip.

 

"Blaine!" his mother called up to him.

 

"Yeah mom?" Blaine called down.

 

"There's a girl here for you! Rachel! She says she's here to do a project with you?"

 

Blaine mentally kicked himself in the head. He groaned and facepalmed, eyes staring at the floor. Right. The Glee assignment he was supposed to be doing with Rachel. Why had he invited her to his house again?

 

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, prompting the other boy to look up at him.

 

"I'm sorry Kurt. I completely forgot. Rachel and I are doing an assignment in Glee together. I told her she could come here so we could practice." Blaine looked genuinely sorry. He sighed heavily and stood from the bed.

 

"Blaine?" his mom called up again.

 

"Yeah mom! You can send her up!" Blaine replied. He crossed to his dresser and hastily buried the book in the bottom drawer before turning to Kurt. "Um, you don't have to stay you know," he said hesitantly. He gave Kurt a look to tell him that he wasn't kicking him out but if he wanted to leave he had every right to.

 

"I'll just…um…vanish," Kurt said and Blaine watched him fade out of view but the imprint on the bed told him that Kurt didn't plan on going anywhere. In fact he was going to stay right there.

 

"Plan on eavesdropping do you?" Blaine joked.

 

When Kurt replied, his voice was soft and almost shy sounding. "I don't want to be apart from you right now Blaine," he said.

 

A gasp left Blaine's mouth and the living boy swallowed. "Kurt…" he whispered breathlessly.

 

"Blaine?" Blaine turned his head sharply to see Rachel standing in the doorway looking confused. "Who are you talking to?"

 

"Uh…nobody," Blaine said hastily, glancing back at the spot where he knew Kurt was sitting. "Have a seat and we can get started," he went on. With horror filling him, he saw that Rachel was about to sit down right where Kurt was sitting. "No! Not there! Anywhere but there."

 

Rachel gave him a funny look. "Are you sure you're okay, Blaine? You're acting a little funny," she said, eyeing him.

 

"Well excuse him for trying to keep you from sitting on me," Kurt piped up, causing Rachel to jump and look around the room. Blaine's eyebrows went so high up, they disappeared into his hairline.

 

"Who said that?" Rachel ordered, eyes darting everywhere.

 

Kurt chose that moment to reveal himself. Both his arms and his legs were crossed and he was wearing what could be seen as a stuck up expression on his face. "I did," he said.

 

Rachel stared at him, eyes wide as saucers. Blaine swallowed hard. If Kurt wanted her to see him, than that was up to him but a part of Blaine wondered if this was him trying to keep Rachel from thinking he was crazy. For that, Blaine was grateful.

 

"You-you-you're Kurt Hummel!" Rachel finally got out.

 

"Brilliant deduction shrimp," Kurt bit sarcastically. Blaine had to stifle the giggle that came out of his mouth. Rachel threw him a look. "Now, I was under the impression that you were here to do a singing project with Blaine, not interrogate him. Kindly take care of your business and leave. We were in the middle of research." Rachel stared at him in awe.

 

"Research?" she asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Kurt was being kind of rude to her. "What kind of research?"

 

Before either of them could answer, the doorbell rang a second time and again, Blaine facepalmed.

 

"Oh great!" he said. Kurt and Rachel both looked at him.

 

"What?" Rachel asked. Blaine gave her the most apologetic look he could muster.

 

"Sorry Rach, but I can't work on the duet today. I forgot I invited Finn over for…reasons."

 

Rachel narrowed her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. "You better not be intending to try to make out with my boyfriend Blaine Anderson!" she spat.

 

"What?! No! Rachel I have no romantic interest in Finn. He's here to help with the research!"

 

Rachel stared at him. Kurt gave him a surprised look. "And why is Finn helping with research and I can't?" she questioned.

 

Blaine tensed, not knowing what to say to that. He didn't know if Finn would want Rachel to know what he had told him so he didn't say anything. Luckily for him, the man himself came to the rescue.

 

"Because my great-grandmother was Burt Hummel's girlfriend," Finn said, having just appeared in the doorway.

 

Both Kurt and Rachel were gawking at him, Kurt not having had anytime to vanish again as he sat there on Blaine's bed staring. He could see it. He could see the resemblance in Finn to Carole, the woman his dad had been courting at the time of his death. Even after being dead for sixty-eight years, he could still clearly recall what she looked like.

 

Finn was holding a photo album in his hands and he cautiously stepped into the room. He swallowed nervously and smiled weakly.

 

"Hey dude," Finn said to Kurt. "I guess you and I were like, almost related or something."

 

Kurt just stared at him. "What is this term, dude?" he asked after a moment and smiled when the question threw Blaine into a fit of giggles. He really liked it when the living boy laughed.

 

"You've never heard the term dude?" Finn asked, eyes going wide.

 

Rachel huffed. "He died in 1943 Finn. Dude wasn't invented yet I don't think. It was most popular by the hippies and potheads of the 60s and 70s," she said.

 

Those words coming from Rachel Berry of all people had Blaine snorting with laughter so much he was rolling around on the floor. Kurt couldn't stop smiling at Blaine. The boy's laughter was contagious and Rachel was not amused. She stamped her foot angrily.

 

"Well if all you boys are going to do is laugh at me, I'll take my leave." They watched her turn on her heel and storm out of the room. Blaine stopped laughing a moment to look slightly concerned.

 

"Don't worry man," Finn said. "She always does that. She'll get over it." He shrugged. Blaine looked unsure for a moment but finally nodded his head. "So, research?" Finn questioned.

 

"Right," Blaine said, finally starting to calm down. He moved to the dresser and pulled the book from where he had stashed it when Rachel arrived. "I got this from the public library. I'd just found something when Rachel showed up."

 

Finn nodded and took a seat on the bed. Blaine joined him, settling himself between Finn and Kurt and both boys looked over the book as Blaine opened it to the page he had slightly dogeared hastily before he hid it. Finn set the photo album aside.

 

"Here, you see? It says that if a living person is willing to help the spirit in their quest to solve their unfinished business, than the spirit may have an outlet for leaving their place of haunt," he said, looking down at the book in his hands.

 

Finn furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" he asked.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly. He already liked this boy. But why wouldn't he? He was a descendant of Carole and Kurt had absolutely loved his father's girlfriend.

 

"I can't leave this house," he explained. "Not even to the backyard. But we already figured I'm probably still here because of the Karofsky at your school."

 

Finn looked thoughtful for a moment. He seemed to be mulling over what Blaine had just taken from the book in his lap.

 

"So basically, that's saying that if Blaine and I want to help you, you'll be able to leave?" he asked.

 

"That's what it sounds like," Kurt said. Though he wondered if it was really that easy. "But I have no idea how the unknown would know that you guys want to help me."

 

Blaine was studying the information in the book as Kurt and Finn conversed. "It doesn't," he said finally looking up. He closed the book and set it aside, running a hand over his face. "You're going to have to possess one of us Kurt," he said quietly.

 

Kurt's eyes got wide and Blaine thought about how beautiful they were. He shook his head in disbelief.

 

"I—what?" he asked.

 

A sigh left Blaine's mouth. "It says the living person has to be willing to help the spirit. The only way to prove that they are is to allow the spirit to possess their body. Otherwise, I don't think you would be able to leave the house."

 

Kurt and Finn were both silent for a moment. Kurt was obviously hesitant at the idea of possessing one of them. For one thing, that would be an invasion of privacy. Kurt shuddered at the thought of knowing that being in a living person's body would mean adjusting to bodily functions he didn't have the need for anymore, such as relieving himself in the restroom. A blush colored his pale cheeks as he thought about touching Blaine. Though he really wasn't sure he liked the idea of touching Finn.

 

"I'll do it," Blaine suddenly said, looking Kurt in the eye.

 

"What?" Kurt and Finn questioned together.

 

"I'll do it," Blaine repeated. "I'll let you possess me." Kurt started shaking his head.

 

"I-I can't do that Blaine. It's an invasion of privacy. I'll see things." He blushed again.

 

"I didn't know it was possible for dead people to blush," Finn deadpanned. "Anyway, why you necessarily Blaine?" he asked. "I'd do it too."

 

Blaine shook his head. "First of all, Kurt, we don't have any other options. If you want to do this, possession is the only answer. Secondly," he turned to look at Finn. "Kurt's right Finn. It would be an invasion of privacy and like me, he's gay."

 

Finn seemed clueless for a moment before realization dawned across his face. "Oh," was all he said. "Yeah, than you-you should do it Blaine." He sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

 

Kurt was staring at the ground. "I'll uh, try not to look when I'm relieving myself than." He bit his lip. "But I'm afraid touching is unavoidable."

 

It was Blaine's turn to blush and he looked away momentarily. "Okay, how about this. To spare you as much need to breech my privacy as possible," he started, "I'll shower before you take possession of my body. That way, you only have to deal with bathroom breaks if you need one."

 

Kurt gave him a grateful look. "Thank you Blaine." Blaine smiled at him and Kurt felt his unbeating heart stutter in his chest. No, no he couldn't fall for a living person. He mentally scolded himself.

 

"You're welcome. So it's decided. Tomorrow, you will take over my body. No exceptions," he added when Kurt went to protest. The dead boy nodded reluctantly. "Now, how about we look at that album Finn?" Blaine went on, changing the subject.

 

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon looking through the old photographs but Kurt couldn't bare to see the ones from the night of the party so they didn't bother with those. All in all, it was actually soothing and the three of them were bonding, which was a good thing. Kurt was glad to know that he would at least have Finn during his excursion in Blaine's body the next day.

 

Hopefully, it wouldn't be a complete disaster.


End file.
